


Masquerade

by who_turgled



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, LIKE EVER, Slow Burn, hope ya'll enjoy!, this is my first fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_turgled/pseuds/who_turgled
Summary: As it stands, there's not a particular direction to the plot. It's basically a mishmash of scenes that have popped into my head, with padding in between to connect em all. There's probably gonna be eventual Adrienette/Marichat/etc, but for now it's just a run o' the mill self indulgent fic.Hoo boy, this is my first fic! I'm nervous, but I hope everyone enjoys it! I pretty much dove head first into the Miraculous fandom, more so than pretty much any other, and this is testament to that :P





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 of ???  
> This is just the intro chapter basically, getting into the rythm of things and setting up this and that. I hope to get to the meat of things eventually, though!

When dusk settles over Paris, lights in the windows of countless houses begin to flicker off one by one. Almost immediately they are replaced by the lights of Paris’s nightlife, dazzling with as much vitality as the events that they lit. Some of a gloomier attitude might complain that the stars in the sky could not be seen, drowned out by the radiance of the city. But anyone who had seen Paris from above knew that each of the city’s lights made up for each and every one of the unseen stars.  
With a spirit as elemental as any force of nature, no amount of gloom or doom could hope to darken the ever-glowing City of Light, as it was so affectionately dubbed.  
To the people that lived there, though, it was just called home.  
Countless streets threaded the Parisian cityscape, each a vein carrying the people who were the lifeblood of the city. From those streets rose an incalculable number of smells and sounds. The sweet, tantalizing aroma of fresh bread that crept out the doors of bakeries, the joyous laughs, gasps, and sighs of the theatres, the scents of perfume, the clinks of wine glasses and clicks of cameras all joining as one, molded by the wind and pushed up towards the heavens. Each of these individual strands of human experience intertwine with one another, all flowing upwards into the steadily darkening sky.  
If one were to choose to follow a particular one of these threads back down to the city streets, they would find themselves listening to Alya Césaire, Paris’s number one expert on all things Ladybug. Beside her walked Marinette, listening intently to her friend as she jabbered away about Ladybug’s latest escapades. Currently, Alya was recounting the details of Ladybug’s latest battle, with which Alya had had an up close and personal experience. The fight had been one of Ladybug’s closest calls to date.  
“And then, just as they were about to blast me, Ladybug swoops in and saved me, just like that! She was right there in front of me, I could’ve counted every spot on her back!” Alya paused, biting her lip. “It’s eight, by the way.”  
Marinette’s gaped at her friend. “You were about to die, and all you could think to do was count the spots on Ladybug’s back?”  
Alya feigned a look of self-importance.  
“Well I couldn’t very well call myself the definitive source of Ladybug knowledge if I didn’t!” she said, haughtily.  
Mariniette snorted and laughed, both at Alya’s joke and at her own secret. In a way it was an inside joke, one kept strictly between her and Tikki. Still, she needed to give Alya a lecture on staying out of the way next time she saw her as Ladybug.  
The two chattering girls strode down the sidewalk, immersed in their conversation, barely taking notice as they passed by the softly glowing exterior of one of the many comedy clubs of Paris. In big, bold letters emblazoned upon the marquee above the doors were the words  
***  
TONIGHT: LOUIS-ANDRÉ DU MUSANT MAKES HIS COMEDY DEBUT  
***  
Past the doors, through the atrium, and inside the main theater, a harsh, bright spotlight shone down upon a young man as he stood nervously in a stage that he could have sworn felt much larger a moment ago. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and rolled down his face in quick succession, and he took a step back, feeling altogether too close to the edge of the stage.  
The audience before him was filled with the blank, impatient stares of unamused patrons, and he could make out whispers of conversations about refunds as people stirred restlessly, a few even beginning to get up and leave. Each pair of eyes was like a red hot set of coal tongs, jabbing him over and over, branding him in their displeasure.  
Louis nervously fumbled for the bottle of water that sat on the stool next to him, desperate to ease the dryness that rose up from his throat. As the relief of the hydration swept through him, Louis gathered himself.  
He opened his mouth in one final attempt at redemption, only to be cut off by a booming voice that echoed from the loudspeakers around the room.  
“Well, let’s get a warm round of applause for Louis here, as we bring on our next act in a moment!”  
Someone in the audience coughed awkwardly. A few feet tapped impatiently, and the sound of shuffling and whispers were all that the audience was willing to give.  
Slowly, Louis turned and made his way of stage, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his microphone hard enough that it hurt. He barely registered someone patting him on the back as he walked by, along with a few scattered mumbles of consolation. Hearing the dull roar of the audience as the next act strode confidently onto the stage, his eyes began to burn, and he walked faster and faster until he found himself alone in some unoccupied corner of the building.  
Louis sat down hard, bringing his knees up to his chest and folding in on himself, quietly sniffling. Like a child, he thought to himself, a pathetic child. Cursing all the circumstances that had brought him to where he was, Louis buried his head into his folded arms.  
Somewhere in Paris, far above the sights, sounds, and smells of the city, a giant aperture rolled open, a shadowy man in a dark purple suit grinned, and a lone, black butterfly fluttered its way into the Parisian night sky.  
Louis sat by himself, wallowing in his shame. The humiliation that rested like a brick in the pit of his stomach compelled him to stay where he was, feeling too heavy to even attempt standing. In this heightened state of distress, Louis took no notice as the butterfly made its way toward him and nestled itself into the microphone still clutched in his hand, disappearing as it merged itself with the device.  
Suddenly, Louis was overtaken by a strange feeling. It spread from the hand in which he gripped his disconnected microphone, and twisted its way up through his body. It was a pleasant warmth that assured him that all would be well in time, soothing him and relaxing his taut muscles. In some untouchable periphery of consciousness, Louis noted that despite this, underneath lay some inherent, unshakable coldness that wrapped itself around the core of Louis’ being, but any part of his mind in which this registered was already too far gone. Slowly, Louis raised his head, grinning. His eyes glazed over for a moment, and then refocused as a dark red tinge spread out from the bridge of his nose and across his eyes.  
As his face was illuminated by thin, purple lines that formed the unmistakable shape of a butterfly, Louis heard a rich, gravelly voice coming from somewhere inside of his own head.  
“Dark Humor, I am Hawk Moth, and I know raw comic talent when I see it. Clearly, those fools have no sense of humor, but I will grant you the power to make them all realize your comedic genius. All I ask of you in return is for you to retrieve the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir for me. As long as you keep your end of the deal, I’ll make sure that you’ll be the one to have the last laugh.”  
Louis’ grin widened at this welcome development.  
“Of course, Hawk Moth, I’ll be sure to leave them in stitches.”  
Louis stood, and a thick, purple and black smog flowed out from his microphone. The gaseous ooze convulsed as it slithered its way up and around him, wrapping his body in a sinister mist.

***

A single scream echoed down the streets of Paris. Then another, and another, and after a moment there was a feeling like a dam bursting, and screams of panic began to flood down the streets. It was a feeling that the citizens of Paris had become achingly used to; it almost felt like some kind of twisted retribution for all the wonderment and whimsy that lived in their city.  
Marinette’s head whipped around, her conversation forgotten entirely. Her gaze bounced from place to place as she attempted to pinpoint from where the shrieks of terror came. Before she could locate their point of origin, the screams were suddenly cut short, seemingly stymied at the source. For a moment, Marinette felt a wash of relief. Perhaps it had been a false alarm, maybe a prank gone bad. People tended to be wary of supervillain attacks, and it didn’t take much for a panic to set in. But of course, the feeling didn’t last. The wails had been replaced by a waves of raucous laughter, and a coldness settled in her spine. Down the street, the doors of a building were flung open, and people came stumbling out, doubled over in fits of hysterics.  
Some of them were clutching at their throats, others had tears welling up in their eyes, and still others had begun to turn unpleasant shades of red. Behind them, the doors swung open once more, and out stepped a garishly dressed man with an ear to ear smile plastered across his face.  
“I’m glad all of you folks have enjoyed the show as much as I have, but I’m afraid that my audience is elsewhere!” he exclaimed.  
Before Marinette had even fully processed the scene, she felt herself spring into action. Turning apologetically towards Alya, she yelled a half-baked,  
“G-go find somewhere to hide! I’ll be fine, I just need to… go this way!”  
She grimaced. Her excuses never went over well with Alya, and she knew that she was going to get an earful for that one.  
She could hear Alya calling out after her, but Marinette ignored off her concerned friend’s hollers, dashing away in search of an enclosed area. Seeing her opportunity, Marinette turned on her heel and dove into a restaurant. She was acutely aware of the horrified looks on the faces of the diners, aghast at this girl who had practically tumbled into the establishment, but she had no time for any sort of explanation.  
“Quick, gotta- gotta use bathroom, where is it?” she demanded.  
A terrified waitress stared at the crazed girl in front of her, then raised an unsteady finger pointing towards the back of the room. No amount of tips could make up for how far above her paygrade this was.  
Marinette mumbled out a quick word of thanks and dashed into the bathroom, pushing past the restaurant’s now panicking patrons. She slammed the door behind her, making sure it was bolted shut before turning around to survey the room. It was a standard affair, nothing too fancy. A toilet, a sink, a mirror, a hand-dryer, and-  
Bingo. A window. Marinette’s hands deftly snapped open her handbag, and without a moment of hesitation out shot a small, red form. Tikki’s big, blue eyes connected with Marinette’s own, and they both looked at each other in determination.  
“You know the drill, Tikki. Spots on!”  
As soon as the last syllable had left her lips, the bathroom was engulfed in a brilliant flash of pink light. As the glow subsided, the girl in the bathroom glanced at the mirror. Marinette and Tikki were gone, and in their stead stood Ladybug, stoic defender of Paris.  
Marinette grabbed her yo-yo from her hip and flung it out, shattering the window. She felt bad about the property damage, but at the same time she knew that it would be fixed up along with everything else once the battle was over. With a quick bend of the knees and a calculated jump, Marinette launched herself through the newly-opened window, gracefully avoiding any and all broken glass and exiting into a blessedly clear alleyway. The bricks of the alley walls provided purchase as she vaulted up onto the rooftop to survey the scene.  
Below her, people littered the streets. Each of them rolled around, gasping for breath like fish out of water as they wheezed in agonizing laughter. Around them, loved ones and altruistic strangers attempted to calm them, but to no avail. The citizens of Paris, try as they might, were powerless in the face of an akumatized villain.  
It took all Marinette had in her not to jump down and try to help each and every person. But, she shook off the urge. The only thing that she could do to help them would be to take down the villain and purify the akuma as quickly as possible. With a wind up worthy of a pitcher’s mound, Ladybug flicked out her yo-yo and swung off into the city, hoping that Chat Noir would make his appearance soon.

***

In another part of the city entirely, Adrien Agreste jolted as he felt his phone buzz out a quick staccato in his pocket. Immediately, he recognized it as the alert that he had set specifically for Ladyblog updates. With a broad smile spreading across his face, Adrien dropped his controller down on the couch and slid his hand into his pocket. He brought his phone up, eager to see what new Ladybug-centric information Alya had posted. But, as he scanned the screen, his expression darkened and his smile faded away.  
A voice piped up from next to him, “Hey man, everything okay?”  
Adrien turned to look at his friend, grimacing. He had promised Nino that they could hang out today, no distractions, but it seemed that Hawk Moth had other plans. “I’m really sorry Nino, I gotta run. A- er- modelling thing came up, and my dad needs me to be there now.”  
Nino groaned, gripping the visor of his cap in frustration, “Seriously? Your dad has the worst timing, dude.”  
“I know, sorry, but you know how he gets when I’m late.” Adrien shrugged in what he knew was a lame excuse, but he had no time to spare. His Lady needed him. Standing up quickly, he strode out of Nino’s room and made a beeline for the front door.  
Behind him, Nino called out, “Wait, dude, isn’t your driver gonna pick you up or something?”  
Adrien froze, desperately reaching for a response. He turned around and said, “Oh, uh he’s waiting for me around the corner! Yeah.” He winced at Nino’s quizzical look, but gave a quick, awkward wave. “Seeya later!”  
“You too, man.” Nino muttered as his friend dashed out the door.  
Dashing out of the house, Adrien closed the door behind him as quickly as he could, flinching as it practically slammed shut. He would have to apologize to Nino later. Looking around, Adrien felt himself wishing that he had hung out at Nino’s house more often, if only to know where the nearest secluded alleyways were. He took off down the street, his head practically swivelling around as he looked for somewhere to transform. To his relief, luck seemed to be on his side, and he quickly came upon a reasonably well hidden alleyway.  
Adrien quickly looked around for any passersby. It wouldn’t necessarily look good for Gabriel Agreste’s son to be seen slipping into a dark alley. Seeing no one looking his way, Adrien took his chance and slipped into the alley, opening his shirt to let Plagg fly out. He flinched as the kwami’s tail flicked across his face.  
“Ugh, it doesn’t matter how much of that horrid cologne you wear, there’s nothing worse than being stuck in your shirt all day.” Plagg grumbled, wrinkling his nose.  
Adrien groaned. Plagg almost never made an appearance unaccompanied by a snarky comment. “Plagg,” Adrien said testily, “you know full well that all I ever reek of is cheese.” No matter how much he cared for the little cat, the stench of Plagg’s camembert haunted his every waking hour.  
Plagg gasped, taking on an air of offense, “I’d call it more of a fine, cultivated musk than a reek.”  
Rolling his eyes, Adrien balled up his hand and stuck it out in front of him.  
“Plagg.” Adrien paused, his flair for the dramatic getting the best of him. He lived for these moments. “Claws out!”  
For the second time that night, there was a flash of light, and the second member of Paris’s dynamic duo quickly scaled the walls of the alley and leaped onto the roof. Whipping out his baton, he flicked open the viewport and smiled. There she was, a lone red dot on the vast map of Paris. His grin widened as he saw the dot begin to move, darting from building to building. Of course she was already on the scene, the perfect hero as ever. She was always one step ahead of the game, and for that he adored her. Springing into action, Adrien leapt out onto the sea of rooftops, following as his map directed. He was off to meet his one and only Ladybug, and his heart was practically fluttering off into the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, if you've made it this far, I thank you for giving up some of your time to read my fic. Honestly, I'm overjoyed that you have, so seriously, thanks a million! I know it's a bit presumptuous, but if people want me to write more, I'll go right ahead - I already have a bunch of scenes planned and partially written.  
> Have a nice day!!


End file.
